Thursday, September 21, 2017

Florens and Hauflins

By Akela (as far as I could tell)

In
Liang Bua, it’s traditional to leave out bowls of rice wine and
baked sweet potatoes by the family shrine every full moon, so that
they might scare off evil spirits with the sound of their happy
feasting.

In
Warchest’r Shire, the first bottle of a fresh batch of garum-sauce
is taken out past the old stone bridge and left in a basket at the
edge of the woods, as payment for saving the life of the good king
Wenceslas’ infant son.

In
Old Alegh, soldiers on patrol always keep a few marbles or dandelion
heads in their pockets to put in the crooks of old trees’ roots, to
make amends for the blood shed at Crowshead Creek.

No
matter where one goes in the world, there will always be the Little
People. Hauflins, florens, halfamen, puckwudgies, hobbledehoys and
halflings. Half the size of a man, or just about the size of a child,
folk say they live up in the mountains, deep in the jungle, just over
the next hill.

They
exist, there’s no doubt about that. The people of Liang Bua wake up
to find their wine and potatoes gone, and are untroubled by wicked
spirits. The garum factory in Warchest’r will find broken tools
mended overnight. The forests of Old Alegh are a place of rest for
men tired of the wars past the mountains.

Many
men confuse them for Folk, but this is not true. They are
Folk-friends, perhaps the most so of all the races of men (Goblins in
particular, as they share a puckish humor), but men they are to the
end; The Little People know the Humble Art, and remember when Mother
and DOG led them through the snow, as befitting an elder race of man.

Few
ever directly cross paths with the Little People: their villages are
hidden by geography and subtler arts, and they themselves are quiet
as shadows. They rarely travel abroad, and in those rare cases it is
usually because they have been roped into some adventure or another
by someone else. This is occasionally referred to among their
villages as being “off to see the wizard.”

Playing
as the Little People

Your
HD, XP, saves, and class abilities remain unchanged. The following
traits may be added.

Hauflin
Hole

There is a village out there that your heart calls home. The world of
bigmen is good for an adventure or two, but in time you will return
to the place you were born. Roll below:

A comfortable, clean warren beneath a hill, among the roots of an
old rowan tree. Guarded by a one-eyed badger named Old Battleaxe.

A temple complex overtaken by the jungle. Tents and huts set up
among the statues of devas and boddisatvas. The serpent who lives in
the reservoir could eat a water buffalo whole.

A longhouse in the mountains, at the end of a path erased by a
landslide. Memories of smoked fish and warm furs, skiing down the
slopes and riding the goats back up.

A wooded island in the middle of a placid lake. You spent your days
fishing with your grandfather.

A cave behind a waterfall, at the end of a valley. The stream above
was glacier runoff, meaning that any home

Just over the next ridge of hills. From the top of the church
steeple you can barely make out the willows by the river and the
apple orchards by Miller Tad’s.

Out
of Sight, Out of Time

For all the simplicity of their lives, the little folk have a
tendency to collect objects that don’t seem to belong to the place,
nor the time: a pocketwatch, a newspaper, a telegram from one’s
aunt, an umbrella, a booklet of stamps, licorice candies, mothballs,
rubber galoshes, and so on. You will have at least one of these items
in your possession upon leaving home, and might find another during
your travels. (If the original is lost, or every other level as
desired)

Riddles

The Little People adore riddle games. Your opponent must pass an INT
check to guess your answer (or you can try and stump your DM), but
you must write your riddles yourself.

Example:

Off playing chess near a red velvet field

White king lost his crown and knelt there to yield

His hair’s all turn’d black

By the shock of attack

And pain now the kingdom’s been deal’d.

On
My Mother’s Side

The Little People have large families, and so you most certainly know
someone, or you know someone who knows someone, who is relevant to
whatever is at hand. You can use this to get a piece of information,
a helpful tool, a translator, or a guide, once per adventure.

This place is apparently an actual pub now. Probably overpriced as hell, but I appreciate the effort.